Bloodlust
by BluntJoey
Summary: When Leon Kennedy is tipped off about Umbrella's top-secret research lab in a rural town in Belize, Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine are the first respondents who dare to face the treacheries of Umbrella all over again.
1. Chapter 1

**"Bloodlust"**

By Jordan "BluntJoey" Adorno

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><p><span>Chap. One – Out of Hiding<span>

"_The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak_." - Matthew 26:4

Jill Valentine couldn't help but compulsively check that her Desert Eagle, her handgun of choice, was still secured in its holster on her belt. She suspected her paranoia was perhaps getting ten times worse each and every day since the nightmare (nightmares, rather) in Raccoon. At this precise moment she was trying to venture, hopefully unseen (if possible), through a deep forest in perhaps the remotest area of the already very remote country of Belize. Jill herself had surely never visited here - nor even seriously _thought_ about this very tiny Central-American country called Belize for that matter - although she figured that it was no surprise that Umbrella was getting cleverer about their choice of locations; in fact, Jill was certain of it: Umbrella had mastered the art of prudence - how much trouble she could only imagine went into relocating their top-secret base here, to Nowhere, Belize! She really had to hand it to Chris - a fellow S.T.A.R.S. member back in Raccoon who'd also walked into that mansion and miraculously escaped - for flying out here first on his own and managing to actually verify Leon's ascertained tip.

'_God knows we wouldn't know anything about it if it weren't for the amazing Chris Redfield_; _only he could take the hunch of a spunky young cop and raise this sort of hell!_' Jill contemplated to herself, climbing over a long, tied-up tree trunk in her way. '_Probably a silly kid's fort or something...I am just about there, after all_.' There, quite specifically, meant Elizabethtown, a rural-as-can-be small town way out from everything else in Belize. Not surprisingly, Jill had found little on the city anywhere. The best she got was a shitty photo of the hotel she'd be staying at. '..._But hopefully not for TOO long, though_!' she seemed to remind herself practically every five seconds.

Finally moving a last tree branch blocking her way, Jill got her first glimpse of Elizabethtown: There was a plain-looking road with another forest behind a line of square, also plain houses. The lawns were, oddly, uniformly unkempt, and a deteriorating street sign read "Paul Road" nearby. And as Jill stepped over cracked cement and walked onto the filth-covered, asphalted road, overall it looked to Jill like Elizabethtown might well be a rather bleak resort to take up. Well, whatever — she would have a place to rest tonight if nothing else, and right now that alone sounded really good.

Jill Valentine, inhaling a deep breath, proceeded up the street, directions in her hand. Next she turned uphill onto Stonehill Way. This small rural town, Elizabethtown, felt surprisingly spooky someway, at least right now at midnight, as she passed a sizable Presbyterian church on her left ("_An Elizabethtown historic landmark_ - built 1899") and a small playground on her right. A moment later Jill made a right onto Auberry Road, and there was Lakeside Resort, her temporary "vacation" home. She had arrived a bit later than expected, and thereby felt very relieved that a room was of course already preplanned _very_ specifically to welcome her.

The hotel was unexpectedly grandiose-looking, its five-story building gold-painted and intricately well lit. At the front of its big, almost filled parking lot, a tall electric sign read, "Lakeside Resort: A Vacationer's Dream Stay Since 1957." A long, fancy-looking white limo was parked straight in front of the entryway, its (assumed) driver leaning against the driver seat door and jingling keys in his hand. He probably awaited a party of very affluent clientele based on the elite standard of vehicle. Taking in these surroundings, Jill swallowed and confidently paced up the asphalt parking lot, curling around the limo, and approached the red double-door entrance.

Pulling on one of the golden handlebars, Jill exhaled a weary deep breath and walked into the hotel's lobby. A scruffy middle-age pale guy with a thick mustache sat behind a check-in desk with a grumpy look on his face. A large fish tank with an assortment of colorful fish and a built-in castle sat in a corner — fold-out chairs to and around its either side — and then directly in front of her a hallway of hotel rooms followed past the immediate silver-framed elevator. Turning to the clerk, Jill managed a polite smile and enunciated clearly, "Hello there. My name is Jill Valentine and I have a four-night reservation for Room 278."

The man did not smile back but instead looked rather visibly harassed as he perused through three separate drawers before finally drawing out her room key. Reading the thin white label on it, the clerk asked the routine question, "What is your pin code, Ms. Valentine?"

"6290," she responded promptly.

Nodding, the dull man handed her the room key. "There you go, miss. Take that elevator right there to the third floor; your room 'oughta be the third on the left when you get out. Enjoy your stay," he recited dryly. He did not wait to see if she had any other inquiries before letting his eyes distract back into their uncaring daze.

Jill nodded assertively to herself, ready. Then with the key in one hand and her duffel bag in the other, she went forward to the elevator and pressed the call button. It turned orange, and then several seconds later the elevator's doors opened in front of her. Entering, Jill Valentine shuddered aback herself for a split second as the realization of things battered upon her: indeed — she, Jill Valentine, was actually daring to take up the (likelier-than-not) impossible task of infiltrating and disarming a top-secret Umbrella base located right here — yes, in the rural and seemingly uninteresting village of Elizabethtown, Belize indeed.

And yet — As Jill walked into the elevator, an unexpected rush of actual happiness surprised her. Trapped in her own apprehensive mind all day long, she'd forgotten all about the one good reason to be here: Chris Redfield was awaiting her right now in Room 278! She hadn't seen Chris in almost a full year, having been in different continents most of it even, yet now he seriously was just two stories up waiting. The circumstances weren't great, they were grave as can be in fact, but you know what?

_'I'm seeing Chris fucking Redfield again. I can't believe we're even still alive. Hell, maybe this isn't going to be so bad after all._..' she thought over with a surprising dose of cheeriness in her. And Jill Valentine smiled, really smiled, for the first time in a very long while as the elevator began ascending to the third floor.

* * *

><p>Chris Redfield sat waiting for his comrade, Jill Valentine, in anxious excitement - It'd been a while. On the other hand, the first thing he had for Jill when she got to the motel was good news: he had the all-revealing diary, as promised, safe and ready for her scrupulous perusal. It was the single-handed compelling force (officially anyway) that had drawn Jill to seek him out in the first place, the crucial discovery which at last gave them an up-to-date lead on Umbrella's latest collusion. This diary belonged to the currently elite Umbrella scientist, Helen Schmitz, whom, with the help of Leon Kennedy, was found by Chris here in the dire remoteness of Central America.<p>

He himself had been harboring Room '278' for close to a month now. Though at the beginning he'd definitely kept a low-profile, it wasn't long before Chris recklessly dared trying to break into Dr. Schmitz's house, as it for almost certain doubled as her secret laboratory. And by stroke of miraculous luck Chris, in but the brief minutes which he allowed himself to spare, bulls-eyed and acquired his new nemesis' personal diary. Once back in his hotel room safe and sound, Chris quickly discovered the contents of it were amply filled with dangerously revealing details about her research. Needless to say, Chris immediately contacted his fellow surviving teammates, Jill, Barry and Rebecca, as well as Claire and her befriended surviving RPD cop, Leon Kennedy of course (given he alone made the trip to Belize possible in the first place).

Now though, feeling anticipative as ever, Chris checked his watch incessantly, trembling a bit in his nervousness until finally three deliberate knocks disrupted his door.

Jill Valentine had at last arrived.

Chris raced in step over to the door following a rather repellant second of shock. Nervous as ever and barely breathing, he checked the peephole and, as he'd expected, saw Jill Valentine for the first time in almost a year, standing there waiting. Excitement predominating him all the sudden, Chris eagerly unbolted and opened the door to welcome his most anticipated guest: Jill, leaning one leg against the other's thigh, could not hide the astonishment in her stunned features as Chris at last looked at her face-to-face properly after spending almost a year apart. Immediately her worn facial expression was reanimate with a wholly joyous sensation for probably the first time in a long while. In response, Chris felt his face flush, turning a vulnerable scarlet as a long-awaited bolt of satisfaction vibrated through him. The two both burst into radiant, all-authentic smiles that competed in their beaming grace.

Jill was first to speak, gasping incredulously as she tried fathoming that this was truly reality. "Chris Redfield...God, I can't believe how great it feels to see you again, in one piece that is," she candidly joked, gliding off her words a bit. "Oh, Chris!" Diving desperately, she damn near suffocated Chris into a heart-filled embrace.

Holding her tight, in a comforting voice Chris said, "Jill Valentine, Jill fucking Valentine...is it really you, gal?" He was surprised how quickly his naturally dry mode of humor seemed to return. Letting go, Chris pulled the door fully opened and made a welcoming, pointed gesture inside.

Jill walked in proper first, glancing about as Chris closed and re-bolted the door shut before returning to her. Jill's head was tilting side to side as her prominent green eyes surveyed the small (albeit manageable, he hoped) terrace of refuge. Turning to look at Chris once he moved to stand next to her, Jill nodded her head with an easy-going, approving look on her face. "Not too shabby...It's a minor miracle in itself to see a room belonging to Chris Redfield clean, actually CLEAN. Trying to kill me with shock?" she teased him harmlessly, and they both laughed.

Chris looked rather pleased with himself, making a facetious, slight smug look. Grinning pompously, he then folded his arms at his chest, sarcastically replied, "All done just for you, Miss," and winked.

Tipping her head appreciatively, Jill responded with a genuine smile of silent gratitude before returning to look around at her new surroundings. "That my bed?" She pointed at the identical made-up bed next to his on the other side of the peach night stand bridged between them.

Chris nodded earnestly, still smiling. "Make yourself at home best you can," he encouraged, though awkwardness wedged his welcome just a tad.

Jill nodded, appearing perfectly composed nonetheless and not at all beside herself. Without another word she fell into seat on top her new bed, only now realizing how truly exhausted she was. Leaning back comfortably, Jill reassured her friend. "I can manage just fine here, Chris, don't worry. You've done a really good, if super surprising, job of keeping this place up." But before Chris could even thank her, Jill's expression darkened sharply, and then she took him aback with her follow-up, surprising bold words. "But before we get TOO comfortable...first, the whole reason you sent me halfway across the world: the diary, Chris, show me the diary."

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><p>And once the diary was in his comrade's hands, Chris soon learned, they were far beyond crunch time.<p>

Less than five minutes later indeed, most magically Chris felt tantalized, even pulverized somewhat, by the flashing of his friend's amazed, studious eyes. He gulped bracingly. As Jill finally opened it, in a somewhat hoarse tone Chris first advised, "Skip ahead to late-April, 1999 for now."

She nodded affirmatively, and immediately immersed herself upon finding the right page:

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><p><em>April 28, 1999<em>

_After all the trouble of just being approved, alas I've arrived at my fortress in Belize. My Umbrella seniors even made sure to station me in a very remote location, too, just as I ideally requested. I'm truly in perfect condition to conduct 'X' research & experiments in peace; I couldn't be more untraceable than in this practically unmapped hiding space of mine, here in the remotest, entirely rural seclusion of Elizabethtown, Belize. Hehe —_

(Rest of page is illegible due to a blotchy stain.)

_May 5, 1999_

_I did it, I finally prototyped a replicable sample of the X-Virus! Alas, yes, my many months of devoted research are complete. Dr. Berkin, my greatest inspirer, would be proud if he were still living. He inevitably agreed with me that the scientists who completed the T-Virus project, calling it 'perfect', befooled themselves in not ensuring the virus had an unfailing, mass-distributable vaccine. Look what happened to Raccoon City and Rockfort Island! I, wiser than that, SPECIFICALLY designed 'X' with the precept that it would be non-infectious for humans. Many fellow Umbrella employees frowned upon this, or were at least mystified (that's for sure) as to my motive here. I supposed it IS slightly baffling to hear someone working for Umbrella has a conscience for humane ethics — fools._

_What these scientists don't understand is that if nothing else, the risks of experimenting on humans by far outweighed any such 'benefits'. Again, look at Raccoon City: 100,000 people died at the blood lust of the T-Virus, died after being mutated into brainless, flesh-hungry zombies; without a doubt it was an abomination. But even if the question posed was simply whether anything "genius" could derive from using human lab rats, STILL, the answer is no — A doubtless, definite no. I actually find it rather sad that I'd even need mention the truly possible apocalypse that the T-virus could technically cause..._

_Anyway, 'X' instead has extraordinary potential in the animal kingdom, with mammals particularly._

_May 9, 1999_

_At last my first X-Virus trials (rat experimentation) began miraculously right on schedule! Things already look good. Promisingly, my original expectation that 70 % or more of the subjects (100 in total) would die immediately following X-Virus injection proved wrong - 70 % survived! We'll have to wait and see if they experience positive accelerated growth in upcoming days..._

_May 21, 1999_

_55 % of the rats remain alive. These survivors have experienced extraordinary growth. This is great progress! The subjects are a third larger in proportion than at the start. Soon I can move on to new species!_

_June 15, 1999_

_Okay, now only 15 % of my rats are alive. Increasingly with each day, more reach an inevitable death (although recently the rate of death has significantly slowed). I admit this is a source of great disappointment considering their bright early progress. Nevertheless, the survivors have mutated to the unbelievable size of a Green Shepard dog; their teeth are practically shark-like, their claws deadly, instinct & senses intensely sharpened. If the survivors are any indication of the X-Virus' potential to create bio-weaponry, then the rats prove ''X' exceeds insurmountable boundary. I have no doubt about it._

_July 09, 1999_

_Today my experimentation advanced to canines, cadaver dogs, even, by a wonderful dose of serendipity. So far, so good — well, not including the rough initial struggle the canine likes put up in the leading moments prior to their 'X' injection, anyway. Heh —_

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><p>The remaining pages were ripped violently from their spine in what must've been a fit of rage. Chris found this rather puzzling; why destroy the consecutive pages but not the preceding ones too? The hitherto salvaged pages certainly contained beyond confidential information. If any of this came to light — if but a sentence describing such BLATANT exploration into the darkest depth of inhumanity were exposed — '…<em>the lady scientist would be looking at life behind bars almost undoubtedly<em>', Chris thought to himself. '_At least in any country bound by Geneva Convention laws against torture, which protect even terrorists, for God's sake_!' Chris of course imagined that the pages following the ninth of July were even more inflammatory, but it was extremely rash to not in turn dispose the entire diary altogether. Extremely.

As she finished reading, Jill looked at Chris with a frightful look of worry combined with pure astonishment. Pale as ever, the two glanced silently at one another for an appreciative moment, and then finally she confusedly uttered a mere two words. "How sick." A raw look of disgust vividly animated her face, a revelation into the depth of Jill's hatred for Umbrella. "How fucking sick…But at least we found it, well you did that is. You're the best, Chris," she commended, but though her words were genuine, the sound of her voice trickled by an unsettling hollowness.

Chris smiled. "Thanks, Jill, but I got nothing on you," he said, winking kindly, but the moment passed quick as they once again glanced at one another with faces grimaced with apprehension...

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><p><strong>Author's Endnote<strong>: Stay tuned! This is just the beginning of a huge, exciting, Resident Evil-style horror-adventure!


	2. Chapter 2

Chap. Two - Familiar Resurrections

"_Do not cast me off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent_." - Psalms 71:9

**August 9, 1999**

_It feels so surreal to be flying out to Belize of all places to regroup with Chris & Jill. It seems rather too uncanny a place if you ask me. Of course, we three (plus Barry, too, soon enough) are hardly there for tea. The only reason our meeting place is Belize is because it's the sight of a new top-secret, all-too-crucial Umbrella base. Even so, the sequence of every little thing going on still baffles my mind witless almost! How could all of it – the conspiracy, the malice, the ill intent, the inhumanity of it all - be at the tip of our fingers all over again?! What happened in Raccoon just wasn't abominable enough for Umbrella, was it?! Nope, a tragedy that MURDERS only, you know, _100,000 innocent people _is simply not suffice to satisfy Umbrella's hunger to create monsters; their malignancy will prevail at any cost, I guess..._

_Nevertheless, believe it or not here I really am, sitting in my seat at the Orlando International Airport, bracing to wait another 30 minutes before I can at last board my flight to Belmopan, Belize. I'm seriously going out of my way to walk right into yet another inevitably all-too-deadly collusion of Umbrella's, and even yet, somehow I haven't the slightest doubt that I'm doing the right thing. If there's one thing I've learned since this whole fiasco first began, it's that life can't be just for oneself if you intend to make a difference. So since there's nothing more I want than to take down Umbrella for good — publicly exposing each and every one of the wretched corporation's unconscionable acts of treachery and evil too, while at it — taking a huge risk is a sacrifice I must be willing to make right now..._

* * *

><p>As soon as her plane was safely cruising the clouds, immediately Rebecca Chambers took out her laptop to occupy herself with. Stupid as it was, she hadn't quite conquered her overbearing fear of flying and needed a distraction ASAP. She decided to again review the intentionally vague, confidential memo that Chris had risked sending her a few days prior. Although the email perhaps contained less than a speck of useful information regarding the mission in Belize (at least in Rebecca's mind), it was the most Chris would acquiesce to sending her, and even that was only after much unrelenting INSISTENCE on her part to know what the hell was happening. Indeed, it wasn't as if Chris had had the decency to let her in on anything out of his own accord ('<em>Imagine that!'<em> thought a bitter Rebecca to herself) — not a chance. Nonetheless, retrieving Chris' saved email from its password-secured folder, Rebecca re-read the document yet again, incessant in her search for any previously unnoticed clues:

* * *

><p><em>Hey Rebecca, <em>

_ Hope you're doing well and that everything is still going fine. Me and Jill can't wait to see you in a few days. I know you want to know all the details about the investigation over here and all, but I have to be extra careful about what I put in writing. What I CAN tell you though, is that we've been hanging in this hotel together, me and Jill, for two weeks now uninjured, and for me altogether, it's been over a month. Can you believe that?! Anyway, our luck hasn't even ended there, either: About ten days before Jill got here, I dared to make a very, VERY risky move that shockingly proved to be most ingenious: I broke into the home of someone central to our investigation (can't say who for now), and as I'd suspected, the residence actually doubled as a secret laboratory! But most amazing of all was the jackpot I so luckily received for my trouble: I unbelievably managed to get my hands on a diary FILLED with invaluable information pertained to Umbrella's latest doings! I can't get any more specific than that, sorry, but it'll have been worth the wait when your eyes behold the gloried diary and its promising set of clues. Seriously, I swear to God, Rebecca, don't worry — when you get here you will_ totally_ forgive this current trend of uninformative communication!_

_Take care & see you soon, _

_Chris, your loyal comrade_

* * *

><p>The friendly, albeit rather brief, message ended right there. It came across as rather unfinished, unfairly concealing. Rebecca sort of thought Chris was being a little too paranoid, as she could've simply saved then immediately deleted the message without a trace from her inbox no harm done. In all truthfulness, in fact, Rebecca felt pretty disappointed in Chris and Jill for their lack of effective communication, and even thought they should consider themselves damn lucky that she was even coming in spite of them leaving her <em>totally<em> in the dark about the situation. In the overall scheme of things though, Rebecca, so very jarred by it all, constantly had to remind herself that this severe disconnect between herself and her fellow S.T.A.R.S. comrades would ultimately be very short-lived. '..._Over in mere HOURS at this point, matter of fact_', Rebecca thought to herself encouragingly. Resigning to close her laptop, she lied back in her seat, trying to relax, and eventually rested her eyes shut peacefully. It would be a couple hours before they were anywhere near Belize after all, so catching up on some much-needed sleep wasn't a half-bad idea...

A short two-and-a-half hours of half-restful napping later, the loud echoing voice of the pilot on the intercom, alerting them that they were finally beginning to land, woke Rebecca up with a startle. She immediately felt as though she'd only just lied back and closed her eyes a moment ago, surmounted still by an undying exhaustion despite napping. Irritably listening to the announcement, the first things that alarmed her senses were her rapidly accelerated heartbeat, her awkwardly subdued, anxious breathing, and a nasty apprehension which seemed to sizzle back and forth up her spine. The forthcoming moment of culmination was at last soon to dawn, and with it came a bemusing diffidence in herself that seemed to leave her all the more gun shy.

'..._Only time will tell_, _I guess_,' supposed an irresolute Rebecca to herself. She couldn't help being this apprehensive about the impending future, as it undoubtedly would be filled with events that could possibly make her look a lot less like a hero and much more like a fool with a flamboyant death wish.

* * *

><p>Barry Burton tried surreptitiously looking away from his furious wife despite their face-to-face proximity. They stood each frigid with tenseness in the middle of the normally cozy family room of their new middle-class home in the quiet suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia. Where Amy Burton, his wife of fifteen mostly peaceful years, held one terse fist against her hip as she stood her <em>very<em> confrontational ground, Barry leaned one of his boots on top the other with his arms folded at his chest uncomfortably. It was late, the kids had been in bed for almost an hour now, but Barry and Amy were engaged in a very serious quarrel.

"Barry...Barry, you look at me right this instant and listen closely!" his very cross wife commanded.

Reluctantly, Barry turned his weary brown eyes back to his wife, dumbfounded for the right words. "Amy, honey, try to be reasonable—" he started to plead in a progressively weakened tone of voice.

But his scorned wife cut him off scathingly. "Be reasonable? _Be reasonable_?! You've got balls to say that, Burton."

Barry shook his head vehemently, fed up, and threw his hands up in the air out of frustration. "AMY! Come off it, would ya? Don't act like I'm enjoying being forced to choose either you and the kids or—"

But again he was cut off. "...A death wish?" she snapped sarcastically. Her tone was toxic.

Barry grunted effortlessly, wanting to throw back equally combative words but nonetheless falling timid upon the bedeviling eyes of his wife. Beautifully, they shined an extraordinary bright-blue as her eagle-eying gaze watched his every slightest movement. Taking good note of her ever-defensive disposition, Barry tiredly conceded to just sigh and say, "Well, I don't know, Honeybee. Maybe. I don't know...But my heart tells me it's the right thing to do. I got unfinished business with S.T.A.R.S., babe, it's as simple as that." Speaking with actual confidence as he finished his final words (to nothing short of his total surprise, notably), Barry Burton — perhaps audaciously, perhaps not audaciously — gave his beloved wife his classic million-dollar grin.

Somehow the forty-something S.T.A.R.S. veteran and (simultaneous) family man felt certain that he was pursuing the choice that was truest to his heart, and in doing that alone he now rested the _most_ assured about the intimidating, all-too-imminent future.

* * *

><p>Taking in an extended deep breath, Rebecca Chambers, feeling her heart race and trembling, knocked on the daunting door to Room "272" once and for all, in end a bit harder than she'd actually intended to. Once silence resumed, she found herself holding her breath in the few tentative moments that she awaited an answer. It was very quick, though, that Rebecca heard forthcoming footsteps on the other side of the door...<p>

Without any hesitancy the door flew open and there in front of her — she couldn't believe her own eyes — were Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine, standing side-by-side with huge, all-welcoming smiles written across their faces. Chris was first to act, suffocating her into a rather comforting, very much brotherly embrace before she could react or say anything. Instantly Rebecca was feeling showered with very-much-needed relief, as well as a quickly increasing sense of elation. All in all she was left perfectly unable to stop herself from letting out a carefree burst of laughter when Chris amicably yelled out, "BECKY! Nice of you to finally show up, eh, Gal?" He of course only teased her, right away giving her a dose of that infamous dry humor of his that always without fail had rattled her to an innermost chuckle, and which now, too, was working its magic even in a sensitive introductory moment like this; nonetheless taken aback by her own shocking lapse to elation, thoroughly uninjured Rebecca just supposed this was Chris acting fast to make up for lost time probably, no harm at all to be found in his intention.

Contributing to the relieving, surprisingly joyous new atmosphere, Jill wholeheartedly laughed along in the background, and when Chris finally let go of Rebecca the two unusually jovial women jumped into their own enormous hug, like close sisters reunited after a horribly long separation. Practically breathless, with a wink Jill exclaimed, "Rebecca, I can't believe it's really you! I'm so glad you made it, and in one piece too!" And at that they all burst into immediate energetic laughter as Rebecca entered and Chris shut the door behind them.

However, the first symbol of an instantaneously resounding "reality check" (so to speak) bolted right into Rebecca unsuspectingly once Chris had shut and re-locked the door behind them. He was definitely extra-furtive about their security, it did seem, given he bolted both locks on the door immediately. Yet indeed more unsettling was how even "tough-as-nails" Redfield actually looked unnerved, truly afraid, for a pronounced second. It served to remind her of the emergent atmosphere which, potentially deadly at all times, would be a perpetual, overbearing norm that she'd inevitably have to get used to here. "So this is the famous Room '272'?" posed Rebecca jokingly. But then, suddenly she couldn't help but feel an abrasive edge toward them now that they were right there in front of her. They'd treated her like a petulant child every time she'd begged them for information, returning her frustrated pleas with patronizing words. Somehow the lighthearted atmosphere in the room felt instantaneously dissipated; now, actually being in their presences, however, Rebecca indeed felt a very discomforting tension present itself all the sudden. She had certainly NOT appreciated being totally left in dark all this time thanks to the two of them. Feeling herself abash a mortifying shade of scarlet at these jarring thoughts, Rebecca awkwardly attempted to tilt her head subtly off from their direct view. She just could not muster the will to look either of her friends in the eye, even after so long apart, because stupid or not her apprehensive inhibitions from recent days were leaking over.

When Chris alas broke the silence it was thus utmost startling for Rebecca. He spoke confidently, saying in an assured tone of voice, "We're so glad to have you here with us, Becky. You're the best — _seriously_." And yet with these uncharacteristically sentimental, honest, courageous words, all the discontentment dissonant in Rebecca seemed to instantly fade away.

She laughed out in warm appreciation, beyond touched and flattered as she eyed Jill's adamant nodding and beaming smile. "Thank you, Chris! You have no idea how much it means to me that you guys even want me out here with you — I'm honored!" she managed to say breathlessly, soaking up in the oh-so-familiar comfort of the moment.

Jill laughed, lightheartedly answering, "Want you?! We need your medical expertise if we're going to survive much longer out here in the middle of nowhere!" Her words exclaimed with full sincerity, and they all laughed together.

Rebecca blushed, flattered as can be, and somewhat bashfully replied, "Thanks, guys. That means a lot." But not getting too caught up in the mushiness of the refreshing moment, Rebecca instead turned spontaneously eager to live up to their belief in her, and instead made a swift change of topics. Uncontrollably allowing her voice to fall to a hollower, more vulnerable inflection, she nervously inquired, "So then, Chris, Jill...Tell me everything that you've been tortuously withholding from me all this time."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Afterword<strong>: Sorry for the egregiously long wait. On the bright side, now I'm stately focused on this fic, and can absolutely PROMISE Chap. Three will be posted much faster than 'Two' was :D.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three - Mysteries Unveiling

"_Light is sown for the righteous, and joy for the upright in heart._" – Psalm 97

Once Rebecca finished reading the highly illuminating, painfully disturbing details provided in the salvaged pages of Dr. Helen Schmitz's diary, she gulped croakily. Her heart skipped a beat. The suspense of taking in this knowledge, comprehending it, and then acknowledging it as fact, abominable as it certainly was, very much took her aback for a short-lived, yet still nonetheless embarrassing, moment: Despite Umbrella's unspeakable crimes against Humanity,YES, the corporation, incomprehensibly evil, was truly at it again. And frighteningly, there was absolutely no way to say with any certainty that their actions wouldn't be even more damaging this time, even more catastrophic, and maybe to the overall betterment of human society, too! In mere DAYS Umbrella's actions had wiped out __100,000 innocent civilians__ — almost everyone in Raccoon City, hence — so who was anyone to say that their next affirmative action wouldn't somehow be even worse? The possibilities were endless...

Finally Rebecca just shuddered, unable to stop herself from unleashing a fear-stricken gasp in her shock. Trying to appear contained as possible, the youngest S.T.A.R.S. team member looked up at her friends, her comrades who had too survived the treachery of Umbrella. Luckily fazed speechless only for a couple seconds longer, ultimately she just said, "Wow...That's, that's, well, pretty intense stuff. Umbrella never ceases to surprise us with its atrocious dealings, does it?" Her voice trickled with an uncomfortable bitterness.

Chris and Jill looked studiously at her, seemingly intrigued by her reaction, by the transfixed horror vividly coloring expression on her face because of it. Naturally, both of them tensed up themselves in response, with Jill firstly responding after exhaling a long, deep breath. "That's right, sadly. But don't worry, 'Becca. We've got the skills and talents on our side to take them down together." But somehow Jill's words had not managed to sound quite as reassuring as she'd clearly intended, the conviction in her tone coming across moderated.

Rebecca gulped achingly, exasperated from fathoming so many ominous details all at once. Though obviously unconvinced, she said nothing. Played it safe. Nonetheless, Chris, immediately noticing her hardly inconspicuous, silent vulnerable responses, stepped closer to Rebecca and affectionately patted her on the back. Then, totally surprising her, in a tone of voice that was very caring and, again slightly uncharacteristic, rather sentimental, the oldest of the three S.T.A.R.S members present consoled, "It's going to be alright, Rebecca —__I promise__."

Embarrassed by how visible her doubt and disbelief surely appeared, Rebecca sighed wistfully, only very timidly returning to look up at her watching teammates. And when she finally did utter a verbal response, she remained unable to disguise the vulnerability that flattened her tone. "So, uh, where do we go from here, then?" Her glum tone of voice was barely unrhetorical.

And hence she was caught quite off guard when Chris immediately answered her unsuspecting gaze in a few very particular, reassuring words. "We make a plan," he said firmly, as though he'd already anticipated her very question. That he couldn't have sounded any more filled with confidence made a redefining difference too, no doubt.

No less promptly, Jill followed up Chris' words in an equally assertive voice that led with direction. "And that's where you come in," she said upfront, pointing of course right at Rebecca, whom, believe it or not, they'd perhaps never seen so flushed from shyness.

* * *

><p>Barry Burton sat up straight in his first-class seat on an American Airlines jet just after noontime, impatiently awaiting their twice-delayed take-off from Atlanta International Airport. He was anxious to set sail for Belize at last, having grown only doubly confident of his decision since the fight with Amy, his worrisome wife, three days ago. He wanted to be in the company of his loyal comrades doing something about all of it already; after all, the sooner they successfully accomplished their objective (taking down Umbrella of course), the sooner this whole dangerous game would be over. Then Barry could return to his family, return to living out what, prior to this mess with Umbrella anyway, had come quite close to a reflection of the American dream. Yes indeed (and undoubtedly to no one's surprise), the Burton family man couldn't help thinking about his family back in Atlanta all the time. Fear and concern, thus, were unfailingly present in his disposition throughout every moment of each and every day...<p>

Startling him from his reverie, abruptly the plane moved into motion, set for take-off at last. Relief soured through Barry, who grumpily exhaled a dissatisfied sigh nevertheless. '__About time,__' he thought longingly to himself, shifting in his seat. Oddly, he actually felt the impatient, restless feeling surmounting him increase as the aircraft steadily proceeded in place on the helipad. He was ready to feel the surreal, weightless thrill of being carried across the clouds already, wanting so badly to feel that irresistible sensation which Barry still enjoyed even following decades of air flight. '__Never gets old...__' he thought peacefully, reminiscing on old times. Once the plane finally ascended into take-off, Barry could not escape the boyish smiling which always came upon him as he felt the aircraft fastening up in speed before soaring momentously from the ground.

Rising up with a clear of the throat, Barry was determined to keep his head straight, trying to let at least a mild level of optimism pass through the darkness which disrupted his thoughts. Suddenly he felt tired. '__Heh, I guess I'll just wait and see what happens when the other shoe drops,__' he decided to himself, somewhat introspective in thought.

* * *

><p>"So Chris, where exactly is Dr. Schmitz's house at?" inquired a very curious Rebecca.<p>

Rebecca, Jill, and Chris were sitting outside in the balcony of their hotel refuge, discreetly discussing pressing matters in quiet voices.

Chris cleared his voice before calmly answering, "About three miles from here."

Appearing almost pleased by this information, Jill nodded along, reassuringly adding, "Not too close, not too far."

Rebecca looked contemplative, pausing for a moment. "Hmm...Yeah, I'm inclined to agree. Keeps us at a safe distance without being too remote from the target location." By the time she finished speaking her words, surprisingly Rebecca actually sounded confident of herself. For the first time since yesterday, when she'd arrived, Rebecca was beginning to feel assured once again of the value that her unique contribution had.

Chris nodded wholeheartedly, very receptive and looking as though relieved that they'd arrived at the same conclusion. "Exactly. And it will definitely help that I've already been inside Schmitz's house once, though I don't think even I would be reckless enough to bet on that kind of luck again..." Chris ended with a chuckle despite the serious nature of his words, even shooting a smirk their way.

Both Jill and Rebecca laughed, earnestly nodding in the midst. Neither, apparently, felt any qualms at the moment about blatantly displaying their agreement with Chris' realistic acknowledgment of certain self-limitations. Messing with him, sarcastically Jill added a bit harshly, "Yeah, glad even you've acquired some common sense after all the Hell that Umbrella's raised, Redfield..." But she was clearly being facetious, and few would know that better than Chris.

Kidding or not, Chris shook his head at her unappreciatively, clearly not too humored by his giggling comrades' playful ragging. Rolling his eyes and smirking their way, he first let the funniness of the abrupt moment pass before he then said more seriously, "I say we wait for Barry to get here before we get down to business."

Jill looked adamantly reassuring, nodding right along. "That's right. We're going to need all the assistance we can get if we plan on somehow succeeding. And needless to say Barry's a formidable asset," she noted prudently, her demeanor instantaneously studious and deeply calculative once again.

Rebecca was looking between Jill and Chris carefully, measuring their demeanors before putting in her own two cents. She didn't want to seem ignorant, impetuous even, in her choice of words. She wanted to sound resonant in her approach, as that was the key to confirming she too was indeed on the same page. Finally she contentedly let out a sigh - not inappropriate at all really at this point in their discussion - and then innocuously asked, "When __is__ Barry arriving, Chris? Did he give you a concrete date when he called earlier, or is he acting specially vigilant about flying under the radar?"

Jill, too, turned to look at Chris, who'd received an extremely brief call from Barry about an hour ago, when unfortunately Rebecca and Jill had still been enjoying a fancy breakfast in the lobby downstairs. Unexpectedly, Chris lit up brightly at this turning point, and some of the color that was usually hidden by his traumatized gaze - that which had scarred him (somewhat) permanently that very first night at the Spencer mansion, when their Umbrella nightmare truly began - restored in his expression, reddening his cheeks. He looked excited to answer them, engagingly saying, "Barry's plane is landing in the capital, Belmopan of course, tonight at nightfall! I wanted to surprise you guys with the only bit of good news we'll probably have for quite a while, hehe..." He, in such a contrast to just moments ago, sounded cheery as in ever in deliverance of this uplifting news.

Jill and Rebecca started laughing instantly, full of excitement and shocked relief. Neither of the two had expected such wonderful news, so used to being prepared for what almost always turned out to be the inevitable 'worst'. By now it was instinct, sadly. Laughing, Jill was first to burst out saying, "That is such awesome news! CHRIS! How could you wait to tell us that?!" She halfheartedly punched Chris on his shoulder, but the sight of him and his infamous half-grin, half-smirk left all three of them succumbing to continuous laughter.

Although yes, Chris and Jill both went WAY farther back with Barry, and were in turn each very close to him, Rebecca wasn't left out of the elation considering she'd always enjoyed his company (as little of it she'd had, admittedly) and highly respected his admirable loyalty to the few S.T.A.R.S. left. If nothing else, this meant one more ally would be readily jumping aboard very soon, and that alone was miraculously worth celebration.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>A<strong>****uthor's Endnote**: Stay tuned! There's about to be some major action coming up in Chapter Four :)!


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